Author’s note: For the sake of this post, ‘objectify’ will be synonymous with ‘appreciate’. It will not mean to make lewd comments which make the recipient feel dirty and harassed. Objectification is a real issue for women and I’m not making light of it. This post, however, is tongue in cheek, so if you’re easily offended, move on.
If you’re a frequent reader of this blog (thanks, Mom), then you know I spent the majority of my life being grossly overweight, in essence hiding from any unwanted, or wanted, attention. Being someone for whom men admired for her body wasn’t in the realm of possibility, except perhaps for those chubby chasers out there (you know who you are). Yes, ALL women are beautiful regardless of their size, but let’s be honest, those who get noticed and appreciated the most tend to confine to society’s standards of beauty.
And while I’ve always had “such a pretty face” the reality is the whole package was lacking according to conventional standards. Yes, I was still catcalled and solicited, because everyone with boobs, i.e., women, will be at some point. But I was very uncomfortable with it. I probably felt I didn’t deserve to be seen as a sexual object. I hid under my fat and how dare they see through that and try to pay me some attention.
Fast forward to a woman who has now earned her way into being the very thing society covets. Since I wasn’t born fit or thin I don’t take my shape for granted. I’ve sweated my ass off, literally, to look like this.
So while there are women for whom any unsolicited attention is unwanted because they’ve been getting it their whole lives, I say BRING IT ON, GENTS. Go ahead and objectify me. At almost 43 years of age, if you feel compelled to gander at my physique, I say, by all means, knock yourself out.
Because when you look at my ass, I know it’s the result of hundreds of squats. Squats I couldn’t do a year ago, even with an empty bar. It’s from hundreds of deadlifts. Lifting my ass from the saddlebagged, sagging mess it used to be. When you admire my ass, I see strength and perseverance and hard work.
When you stare at my shoulders, I know they’re the result of cleans. Something I didn’t used to know existed. I know that my strict press has sculpted them. I know it’s months of working on my pull-ups and my jerk (still very much a work in progress). I know I had epic soreness and the inability to wash my hair the next day because I couldn’t lift my arms over my head. But I still went back for more.
When you check me out in my bikini, I know it’s from thousands of sit-ups. And GHD sit-ups. I know it’s because I got up for a 9:30 core class on Saturdays when I could have chosen to be in bed. I know it’s because I did two-a-days and eat Paleo. I see the results of dedication and discipline.
When you talk about my ‘guns’ I know it’s from picking up that 75lb Atlas stone, throwing hooks in kickboxing and doing burpees and push ups for days. Thousands of burpees and pushups. Never too many apparently.
When you whistle at me on the street, I see a woman who has turned her life around to be the best person she can be, for herself and for her son. I see a healthy role model. A teacher. A mentor. A mother. A woman. I see someone for whom the next challenge is waiting to be conquered. I see infinite possibilities. So objectify me. Your challenge is greatly and gladly accepted. Oh, and if you do get out of line, let’s be honest. I can kick your ass. With one hand tied behind my back. So, there’s that.